


Benefits

by tainry



Series: Borealis [4]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mention and brief appearance of Beachcomber/Perceptor, Mentions of Hoist/Grapple, PNP, Polyamory, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 19:30:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5882761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tainry/pseuds/tainry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles accidentally observes frolicking robots. He apologizes but isn’t really sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Benefits

**Author's Note:**

> For the “Firsts” Challenge...but I don't remember where. I'm p sure this is Borealis!verse compliant, so in the 'series' it goes.

Miles had unintentionally caught a glimpse of Grapple and Hoist cabled together and had immediately run off in search of brain bleach. Yet now, having rounded a corner on the mountain trail to find Perceptor reclining on bare stone with Beachcomber spread-eagled on his lap, Miles froze, and stayed to watch. 

The small moans and strangely melodious electronic noises Beachcomber was making were peculiarly comprehensible - and arousing. Miles didn't touch himself; he was sure one or both of them could perceive him there should they turn their attention outward. If they hadn't already, and being on a war footing, they were probably cautious in the way they'd been for millions of years. That damned multitasking thing again. 

When they had finished – or had chosen to stop; for all his familiarity with the day-to-day of living with the robots, Miles wasn’t sure how this interface stuff worked for them – Beachcomber beckoned to him, smiling. Miles wanted to run. What if he didn’t want to talk about it? They’d respect that, wouldn’t they? Miles rose from the damp seat he’d taken among the ferns and miner’s lettuce and picked his way over to Beachcomber. 

“I’m so sorry,” Miles began. Get it out fast and forget about it. “I shouldn’t have…stayed.” 

“Hey, man,” Beachcomber said, waving a hand in a placating gesture. “We’re all one with the universe.” He leaned toward Miles, optics twinkling. “We don’t mind, you know. Different taboos.” 

“I know,” Miles said. “But I’m a product of my culture, too.”

“Think of us as all being friends with benefits.”

Perceptor strode past them, laughing softly but not unkindly. Probably wishing Beachcomber luck with his little human friend over their private comm link. Miles glared at the retreating scientist’s back. Wrapping an arm around Miles' hips, Beachcomber picked him up, placing him on his shoulders. Like a kid, Miles thought. Or those interesting jousting games in high school swimming pools with a girl’s thighs next to his face. 

It was a quick run down the mountain on Beachcomber's legs, down to a ferny glen still damp from the morning's fog but sunlit now and warm. Beachcomber set Miles on his feet, then laid himself among the resilient bracken, clasping his hands behind his helm, gazing up at Miles with an inscrutable smile. The slightly arched posture of his body was a clear, wide-open invitation. 

Miles sat beside him. The seat of his jeans was already wet, no sense fussing about the arrangements at this point. 

“Perceptor says your brain lit up in beautiful patterns while you were watching us.” 

“Great. You guys are telepaths too, huh?”

“No.” Beachcomber rolled onto his side, facing Miles yet somehow not closing the small distance between them. “Observing the physical changes doesn’t necessarily reveal the meaning. Especially in one unique individual.” 

“Thanks, I guess,” Miles said, blushing and giving Beachcomber a lopsided grin. Beachcomber’s tone had conveyed that Miles was not only a very unique individual but one worthy of interest and admiration. The sunlight was getting warm. Beachcomber was warm. Miles took off his jacket. “So. Friends with benefits, huh?” 

“Mmyeah.” 

“And your friend Perceptor won’t be…won’t mind?”

“No.” Beachcomber smiled. He had a good face for it. “This isn’t the first time one of us has fancied an organic friend.”

“Oh.” Miles tried not to stare at Beachcomber’s chest, at where the cables had been connected between him and Perceptor a little while ago. “Is…is this the first time _you_ have?” 

“No.” So carefully neutral Miles wondered if the affair hadn’t ended well. 

Oh. Lifespan. Of course it hadn’t. It couldn’t. Miles discovered that he didn’t care. He remembered something his grandmother had said once. Never let your regrets be for things you _hadn’t_ done. “What do my brain patterns look like now?”

“Heh. Don’t know. Not my specialty.” Beachcomber slipped a hand up under Miles' shirt, splaying hard, warm metal fingers against soft human skin. “I can feel the iron in your blood, though. Moving fast. I can hear your heartbeat.”

“Do you want…” Miles swallowed hard. One of Beachcomber’s fingertips brushed a nipple. “Do you want me to tell you…what it means?” 

“Maybe you could show me, instead.”


End file.
